Who Killed Mr Black  A Cluedo inspired work
by xlandar
Summary: Following the death of Mr. Black, the residents of Mr. Black's huge mansions were suspects in the case labelled as murder. However, no one knew who was the real murder. A meeting is organised by Mrs. Peacock, one of the suspects.
1. Chapter 1

As the clock ticks closer to the pre-arranged time, she rushed to finish her last tasks. Then, she tidied up her hair and brushed hopelessly at her wrinkled clothes. The fingers on the clock point onto the last hour, and she clutched tightly onto her old bag, slid her feet into those worn-out shoes before departing from the mansion.

As she walked briskly towards the direction of the old train station, her mind started to wander. It travelled first to the item in her bag. Should she had kept it in that little room of hers? But Mrs. Peacock had made it so clear that they were to bring 'their little gifts from dear Mister Black. After all, it's not worth anything at all,' she had said in that accursed voice of hers as she turned those beady eyes onto White. Her mouth was pulled down at the edges as she considered the outfit of white. "How dare she look down on me!" White cussed silently. Just thinking about the shit she has to put up with in the family enraged her to the point that murder seemed deliciously probable. "Wait! That is dangerous!" She cautioned herself. "I didn't do anything. I didn't do nothing at all to Mister Black. Nothing!"

She cursed the guts of Peacock to set up such a meeting. Yet, she could not deny her… No, she could not do anything but agree to her arrangements; being played by that vicious woman all this while. She cursed herself for that. The train announcer announced the station, and White pulled herself up from the hard seat in the cabin. She settled her worn bag onto her tensed shoulders again and stepped out of the train into the buzzing station. The place they were meeting in was a place that Mister Black had frequented during his life time. He had, on certain occasions, brought them there to gather. White is sure that Peacock had such a set up on purpose.

"The culprit would certainly feel guilty here, wouldn't he?" White overheard Peacock said as she reached the assigned room in the billiard bar.

"You sound as if you are certain who the one who killed Mister Black is," Mr. Plum replied. "For all I know, you may be the one."

"Oh, that was fast of you, Mr. Plum, and so very suspicious. It's a common thing to push the blame onto others, isn't it so Mr. Plum?"

"Aren't you doing the same thing?" Plum declared angrily.

"If I were the culprit," peacock raised her voice in response to Plum's declaration, "I would not be wasting my time organising this gathering to sound out the real culprit!"

"All part of an act!" Plum yelled, "you are always scheming, you hag! Pointing fingers before everyone else, and pretending you are the victim! You have never cared for Black before!"

"The scene is sure heated," Green suddenly appeared from behind White, who turned around to stare at the man in shock.

"Mrs. White!" Peacock called, peering at the two behind the door, "what are you doing there? Come on in if you have already arrived! You too, Mr. Green!"

The two entered the room, and into the steamy atmosphere that surrounded the first two occupants. "Where is this Scarlett?" Peacock demanded before drowning the whisky she had previously ordered. She slammed the glass back onto the table.

"Drinking so early in the day?" Green asked as he seated himself on her left.

"What I drink and not drink is none of your business," Peacock grumbled.

"Grouchy as usual," Green commented before turning to the waitress that had just entered. "A bottle of your best champagne, if you please."

The waitress bowed in response and turned to White, who did not state her order.

"Go ahead and order, Mrs. White," Peacock smirked, "do not worry about it, you can order whatever you like. I will pay for it."

Plum snorted at that, Green grinned and White glared at the table silently as the waitress waited for her order impatiently.

"Oh, just give her some orange juice or something! Here, refill my whisky before you leave," Peacock demanded of the waitress. She looked at White, who did not respond. Then, the waitress shrugged her shoulders and went to serve Peacock, who watched as the whisky was poured into the glass. "That's enough!" She said when the glass was half-filled. The waitress set the whisky bottle back onto the table and left.

"Is Scarlett not here yet?" Plum grumbled as Peacock took a gulp of whisky.

"I told her to be here at 12 noon on the dot!" Peacock informed him.

"Let's just wait for a while more. Colonel Mustard has yet to arrive too," Green said.

After a while, the waitress returned with a glass of orange juice and a bottle of champagne with an empty glass. Following in her trail was came Scarlett in a revealing maroon dress, escorted by Colonel Mustard. She walked into the room and removed her sunglasses before greeting the others, "good afternoon!"

Colonel Mustard removed his hat and coat and placed them onto the hanger before taking a seat on the opposite end, facing Mrs. Peacock.

"Flashy as usual," Peacock mumbled as Scarlett went took her seat opposite White under the permanent glare of Peacock.

"Red wine, please," Scarlett said confidently to the waitress, who nodded politely at the smiling female.

"Brandy," Colonel added.

"Now, all of us are here," Green said once the waitress had left after serving Scarlett and Colonel Mustard. "May we begin, Mrs. Peacock?"


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. White stared at the darkness of the shadows of her white, crumpled skirt. The gathering had started, but no conclusions had been drawn. She did not wish to suffer here, especially under Mrs. Peacock's jeering glances. She wished they would end this, here and now, and she may go back to the quiet mansion. There, for once, she would not slog immediately like she was paid to. She would return to her small room at the servant's corner of the huge house and sleep on the comfortable bed.

"So you mean to say," Mrs. Peacock declared, her eyes furious, "I am the one to kill Master Black and I'm trying to hide it now! Do not be ridiculous!"

"It is the nature of the culprit – in other words, _your_ nature," Mr. Plum replied, "to yell thief. We all know your nature, Mrs. Peacock. You, who took Miss Scarlett's pearl and claim it for your own while organising a wide search in the entire mansion for it, making it a mess everywhere, and a nuisance of poor Mrs. White, who wished dearly to go visit her sickly mother!"

"Your persistence in insisting that I did it is annoying me! If the thief is calling thief, then you should be the one who I the likely culprit!"

"Say a word of fairness, Mrs. White!" Mr. Plum turned to the silent woman. "Now, keep that fearful look away and utter a word of justice! You had been here the longest, being employed by Mister Black for years long enough to form a decade and more – you know her nature best!"

Mrs. White blanched. She? She is to say a word of justice against Mrs. Peacock? There is no way she could do it! She stared at Mr. Plum, her mouth open slightly in an attempt to make some sound.

"Do not be demanding," Miss Scarlett drawled. "Poor Mrs. White. We all know what Peacock did and not did. There is no need for a confirmation with Mrs. White."

"Do not speak of me as if I am not here," Peacock said through her teeth.

"I'll have to disagree with you, Miss Scarlett," Mr. Green interrupted an imminent fight between the two ladies. "I, for one, did not know if Mrs. Peacock did or did not kill Mister Black."

"Nonsense! Me, killing Mister Black! When will you give up that idea? I did not organise this little gathering to discuss _my_ involvement with Mister Black's death! Though I can safely say that I am not the one whim did it. What of my motive? I have none, and so it cannot be me!"

"Everybody knows you have had disagreements with Mister Black." Colonel Mustard muttered.

"Mere disagreements!" Peacock exclaimed," I, Peacock, would never resort to crimes for mere disagreements!"

"Those are your words, but only yours." Scarlett replied. "You may not know a man's heart until you had opened it up with a knife."

"I am certain I do not know any man's heart as well as _you_," Peacock retorted.

"What are your implications?" Colonel Mustard cried in defence of the lady, "Miss Scarlett would never kill a single man, let alone one such as Mister Black, who had been so kind to all of us."

"Much kinder to Scarlett, I would think," Peacock lifted her head high up, "how would we know if they had some disagreements under the blanket?"

"Madam!"

"There, there," Mr. Green said, interrupting the arguments that flew across the billiard table rapidly. "Do we have enough of that? At this rate, we may never know who killed Mister Black. If we may all listen to me, I have an idea – a suggestion of how Mister Black died."

"Why, he died in front of the staircase!" Peacock said immediately.

"But we would know if he did. Surely, from our positions, we would have heard something. So I dare say the crime was not committed there. The question now is who, where and what."

"You forgot the why," Peacock said absentmindedly.

"The why is not important. If we dwell on it now as we did before, the search may never end."

"Pray! Let it end," Professor Plum said, "I've never been so adverse to sleeping in my own bed before, knowing that somewhere in the same house lurks a murderer.

"If I may be allowed to make my conjecture?" Mr. Green asked.

"Not before we do. You have been living in the mansion for the shortest period of time, Mr Green. The privilege goes to us before you."

"I agree to it," Plum said.

"Your conjecture then, Mrs. Peacock?"

"I say," Mrs. Peacock's eyes turned to the people sitting around the table, landing finally on the one who sat away from her, "Miss Scarlett, you were very suspicious on that day, weren't you?"

"I was away the entire time." Scarlett flicked her fingers as if to toss the accusation away.

"But you were there when Mister Black was dead," Peacock narrowed her eyes.

"I was the one who found out he was dead." Scarlett laughed, "you could ask the driver; he accompanied me on my trip and sent me back in the night. And there Mister Black was lying dead on the red carpet when I was making my way back to my room."

"She tells the truth," Mr. Green said. "I checked with the driver. You all know Jims – he is an honest man; he is as honest a man as you can get. The man does not lie at all."

"She could have cheated Jims – the man was dim-witted; he would never know when he was cheated. She could have returned to the house when he was not aware and killed Master Black, returned to show her face and have Jims drive her back."

"You have no way of proving it," Scarlett said.

"Tell me now, was Jims with you the entire time you were away from home?" Peacock challenged.

"She only needed two hours," Plum noted, "the body was found at 10:15 and the last one to pass the staircase was the Colonel at 7:45."

"Jims drove me out of town. How was I to race home, commit the murder and return to Jims within that time?"

"Quite an impossible feat," Mr. Green agreed.

"Why, Mr. Green, has she got you as well?" Peacock raised her eyebrows.

"You were a dog with a precious bone when it comes to me, weren't you?" Scarlett asked, her tone dripping with dislike.

"I would never treat you like a _precious_ bone, I assure you." Peacock replied. Then, abruptly, she turned to the man besides her rival, "what say you, Colonel?"

"I say the one with the most possibility is Mr. Plum."

"Me!" Plum thumped the glass onto the table angrily, splitting his drink all over. Yet, he did not seem to care, for his attention was turned to the accusing man, whose attention was on _his_ brandy.

"When I last talked to you, you were angry about Mister Black wishing to raise the rent. You thought that he was out to chase you away, and I could swear your eyes were full of hatred."

"Mrs. Peacock was equally angry! Now, if you insist on it, fine! Where could I have done it! _How_ could I have done it? Black _towered_ over me. I may be angry at him, but I would never cross him, much less kill him!"

"The greatest fear can result in the worst deed." Peacock replied to that, looking down her nose on him.

"Where could Mr. Plum have done it?" Green asked.

"I say he did it in the billiard room. The man was hit on the head, weren't he?"

"Impossible!" Plum snorted, and Green smiled.

"I was with Mr. Plum in the billiard room, actually." Green admitted. "That was where we heard Miss Scarlett's scream and rushed to the scene.

"_I_ say _you_ did it!" Plum added, his eyes gleaming.

"Nonsense," Mustard said, sloshing on his brandy.

"It was obvious. Miss Scarlett was away the entire time, until she found Mister Black's body. I was talking to Mr. Green in the billiard room, and everyone else was busy. Where were you, then? I say you are the one!"

"You forgot the 2 hours time frame," Scarlett said helpfully.

"Who do you think did it then?" Colonel asked Scarlett, who replied, "I think Mrs. Peacock did it."

"How many times must I repeat that I would not have organised this-"

"Save the story, Mrs. Peacock. Why don't you just tell us where you were the entire two hours when Mister Black was dead?" Scarlett replied, picking up the bottle of red wine to refill her glass.

"I was in the kitchen, with Mrs. White." Peacock said, venom dripping in every word. She turned to White and said, "you saw me, didn't you? Tell them you saw me when you came into the kitchen in that dreadful apron – you must have came in from the garden; your apron was dirty with soil. We met again later when I came back from the dinning room to get my feather pen. Mrs. White was cleaning my room – I was worried you might have soiled my furniture with that dirty apron of yours. There I stayed until I heard you scream, Scarlett."

"Was she telling the truth?" Plum asked White. All eyes turned to the Mrs. White, who said, "yes, she told the truth. I was just passing by the kitchen then…. And I did see her entering into the room…"

"Only for a while each time!" Plum said with glee. "In other words, you do not have an alibi for the entire 2 hours!"

"How could I have killed Master Black?" Peacock demanded.

"Mister Black gave you a dagger, didn't he?" Plum said with his eyes glinting.

"In that case, I say you were the one who did it – you had a better chance of success with that revolver he gave you as compared to the rusty old knife I had. I did not even like that darned thing."

"You do not have to like it to use it." Scarlett said.

"True," Colonel Mustard nodded.

"Quit thumping your tail to her every sentence!" Peacock snapped at the man before turning to Plum, "I can tell you – the knife is broken into two pieces. There is no way I could have used it to kill. You, on the other hand, could use your gun to kill Master Black."

"If I have used it, everyone in the house would have heard it." Plum said, and Mrs White nodded her head in agreement. The argument was solid – there was no way Plum could have used the revolver.

"I am curious though, why don't you show us your broken dagger?" Mr. Green asked Peacock. "You did request us to bring our gifts from Mister Black."

"Go ahead and examine it for all you wish," Mrs. Peacock dug into her bag and toss the two pieces of a preciously very oriental dagger onto the table, where it landed with solid thuds.

"Here is my revolver. It was still loaded," Plum offered the gun as an afterthought as Mr. Green leaned over to examine the broken dagger.

"You could have gotten bullets and reloaded it." Peacock replied.

"I daresay the dagger got a huge chance," Mr. Green said after a while of silence. He looked up from the table and said to the crowd of gathered people, "when the body was examined, there were knife cuts on the shirt, weren't there? And it cut the skin too. When was the knife broken, Mrs. Peacock?"

"How was I to know? I always leave it in the cabinet after he gave it to me. I discovered it to be broken only when I took it out today."

"The cut could be from another knife," Colonel said suddenly, "that dagger would not have done the job."

Mr. Green shook his head, "I am sure of it. The fact that it was broken and that I had examined some rust on the cut on the shirt was prove to that. It must have came from the dagger as it tore the shirt." That silenced everyone for a moment. "To be sure, let's all produce our gifts," Mr. Green finally said. Obediently, the wrench, the candlestick, the noose and the lead pipe were produced and placed on the table. The weapons were examined.

"The wrench look like it could have killed the man," Colonel Mustard muttered as he picked it up and pulled it down quickly in a pretend-strike. He lifted the weapon and tried it again. "It would kill even that bear of Mister Black," he said, nodding to himself.

"There was a head injury – he was hit with something." Scarlett added.

"May I be allowed to make my conjecture now?" Mr. Green asked after he had examined all the weapons.

"Mrs. White had yet spoken. Do not skip her," Mrs. Peacock replied. "Speak now, Mrs. White, before that man does."

"I … I do not mind."

"Go ahead, Mrs. White. You must not pass your chance. Mr. Green can wait for a minutes more before he speaks again." Colonel Mustard said.

"I…"

"Who do think did the job?" Peacock asked.

"I think…. " White looked around at the table, looking lost, as if she had no idea who to point to. In actual fact, she _was_ lost. She had no idea how she should suggest at all, and she was once again, lost for words.

"Who?" Peacock asked, impatient.

"Mr. Green," White finally said desperately, "you could have hit Mister Black with your lead pipe."

"And where were I to do it?" Mr. Green asked.

"In… in the… ballroom! It was empty at that time. You could have done it there."

"Where were you, Mr. Green, before we met in the billiard room?" Mr. Plum asked.

"I was in my own room, changing my clothes. Mrs. White had accidentally dirtied my clothes when she was hurrying about. She saw me entering my room."

"Did she see you leave?" Peacock asked.

"I was alone until I met Mr. Plum in the billiard room – that was only for a few minutes of time. I could not have done it."

"If he had done it," Mr. Plum said after some consideration, "wouldn't I have heard something?"

"That's my man!" Mr. Green declared. "Now," Mr. Green rubbed his hands together, "for my turn."

"Go ahead," Plum said.

"I think," his eyes looked around the table, considering each and every member of the gathering carefully before he finally turned his eyes back to the one person he had been aiming at, "_you_ are the one who did it."


	3. Chapter 3

"_You_ are the one who did it." Mr. Green said, pointing his finger at the one he accuses.

Mrs. White looked down on her fingers, wrinkled and rough against the crumpled and dirt of her white skirt. There does not seem to be much of a contrast between hand and skirt. For a while, all was silent, and she waited for the accused to finally utter some sound. With the end of Mr. Green's turn, she hoped that the gathering should come to an end. When no other sound was being made, Mrs. White chanced a look at the table. As she looked up, she realised she was staring right at the single finger of accusation that was Mr. Green's. She stared.

"What – where… where could I have done it…" Mrs. White stammered. The way in which it was announced; the way Mr. Green had done it – all these were enough to shock her.

"Not only where, but also what." Mr. Green replied, "I can tell you everything." He was not there when it happened!, Mrs. White screamed to herself as she stared at him. Mr. Green, seeing no reply from Mrs. White, continued, "you had stolen the dagger from Mrs. Peacock's room and killed Mister Black in the Conservatory."

"There… there is no reason for me to do it! You do not have any proof!" Mrs. White exclaimed.

"On Mister Black's body were these evidences: a knife cut with a very rusty blade – that much could be seen from the cut it made on the shirt, a bruise on the head with blood coming out, and a strangled mark on his neck with a noose." Mr. Green glanced around – no one made any attempt to interrupt. He continued, "the knife cut was deep, but it was not fatal. The hit on his head could have rendered him unconscious, but it was the strangle that killed him in the end. So here is my guess: Mrs. White, you tried to kill Mister Black with the dagger you stole from Mrs. Peacock's room – an easy task considering Mrs. Peacock frequently demanded you to clean up her room, and she never bothered with the dagger after she had kept it in the drawer. However, your attempt failed when the dagger broke into two. Mister Black would survive, and you would be in danger. Therefore, you discarded the knife and attempted to kill him with your noose – a weapon you freely had access of, since that was Mister Black's own gift to you. It was the only other weapon you could have had with you to complete your task in your panic. But while you tried to kill him a second time, you knocked over a pot of plant, and Mister Black was injured in the head and it caused him bleeding, which explained the bruise on his head."

"But Mrs. White had alibis," Mr. Plum considered. "And how did you know it was done in the conservatory? The body was found at the staircase."

"That part was simple. Other than the three marks on Mister Black's body, another mark was found on his shirt – soil. In addition, Mrs. Peacock saw Mrs. White's dirty apron, as she had mentioned earlier. That must be because of Mrs. White's attempt to clean up the mess."

"She could have done it in the garden," Mr. Plum injected.

"She could have," Mr. Green agreed, "except that I am a regular in the conservatory. I like to frequent there for a peaceful and quiet time. On my last trip there to sort out my thoughts after the death of Mister Black, I noticed a missing pot of plant. That plant was often in my way as I strolled along the paths, and its being missing surprised me. If I am not wrong, that pot of plant was what that hit Mister Black's head in their struggle and stained his clothes.

"Hmm… logical.." Mr. Plum said.

"You murderer!" Mrs. Peacock exclaimed, raising a bejewelled finger at White. "You actually intended to frame me!"

"That was unexpected…. So you had the guts to kill," Scarlett said.

"Be careful, Miss Scarlett," Colonel Mustard leaned towards her, as if trying to protect her from the potential danger.

And Mrs. White…. Mrs. White stared at the green billiard table in front of her. Then, she suddenly stood up, the sudden action causing the chair to be upset on the ground with a loud clatter. She stared at the accusatory faces around her, and threw herself towards the door. She pulled it open, only to found two males standing in front of her, blocking her exit. "AHHH!" She yelled more from shock then from fear. Colonel Mustard upset his brandy at the sudden scream.

"I am afraid you would have to stay with me for some time," Mr. Green said, as he rummaged into his pockets, seemingly looking for some item. When he found it, Mrs. White stared with shock realisation as the light from above reflected on the shiny badge that he held. "In the police station, if you don't mind."


	4. Chapter 4

"Holy COW!" Mrs. Peacock exclaimed at the sight of the badge. That took the attention of the others away from Mr. Green, and onto Mrs. Peacock. "You had been lying to us all this while!"

"My apologises, Madam," Mr. Green replied smoothly.

"Have you been spying on us all?" Peacock demanded.

"Do you have anything you were afraid of knowing, Mrs. Peacock?" Miss Scarlett asked idly.

"Nonsense! Me? What do I have to hide! Still, the idea of Mr. Green hiding _his_ identity and entering into the mansion!" She shook her head, as if the idea was too much for her to bear.

"If you do not mind, I would like to excuse both Mrs. White and myself from this gathering." The man kept his badge and moved towards a stunned Mrs. White, who was being held onto by one of the uniformed policemen. He took his coat and put it on then, with a final glance at the people who had gathered in this room, he gave a single nod and lead his men away along with Mrs. White.

"You intended to spy on Mister Black," Mrs. White muttered as they moved down the narrow corridor.

"Does it matter now? Mister Black is dead already, isn't he? You killed him yourself, you know."

"I.. you did not have any evidence!"

"I will have soon. It is not hard to gather evidence once you know what you are looking for, you know? Besides, I already know the truth now. What I am missing are the evidence which could be found eventually, and the reason. Would you care to share with me?"

They emerged into the sunny afternoon outside of the bar. Mrs. White glared at Mr. Green, who simply gave a smile and reach towards the door of a car parked just a few steps away. "Here you go," he said, handling the lady into the vehicle. Before he closed the door though, he said to Mrs. White, "you can hide the truth from me, but I will find it out eventually. I always do."

# # #

A few days later….

Mr. Green nodded to the guard, who quickly pulled out his key. The sound of metal rubbing against metal was soon heard as he opened the door for him. Mr. Green ducked his head under the low door frame of the prison, and looked up at a messy Mrs. White. The other did not speak as he entered the room and the door closed again.

"The case is solved," he announced to her.

"Congratulations," was her only reply.

"I will make sure that someone takes care of little Roy, Mrs. White; have no worries." Mr. Green said. That resulted in a change in Mrs. White. She registered Mr. Green, and stared at him, and he arranged himself more comfortably on the chair. As he did so, he removed his gun and various other articles, placing them on the table between them. "I told you I will find out the truth, didn't I? Shall I begin my story? No? Yes? I will take it as a yes then."

He had finished settling himself on the chair. Now, he leaned back, stared at the ceiling, and started recounting, "years ago, you were a young and innocent maid who was employed to look after an ill Master of the house – Mister Black. You looked after him well, for your intensions were genuine. That resulted in a love, which resulted in a child that was not acknowledged. The child was burdened with illness that killed his childhood and crippled your pockets. You had to pay for his medical bills, his constant need for attention, and his living. With your income, all these were not enough, so you blackmailed Mister Black, who refused to admit the child. Somehow, you managed to raise the child till now… six whole years of torture they were for you. But you were stretched thin now. Money had to be borrowed, and money could not longer be borrowed. Desperate, you went to Mister Black, who was busy with Miss Scarlett. Angered, you resolved to get his attention, and perhaps some revenge. You found his will, and neither you nor Roy was mentioned in it. Angry, upset and perhaps worried, you plotted his death. Did you want to kill him? Or was it just blackmailing again? Never mind, it does not matter. You did the job with your noose as Mrs. Peacock's dagger failed, and you intend to announce little Roy as Mister Black's successor. … that is all. Did I get it right?"

"It was a last attempt." Mrs. White finally said. She could not feel the pain anymore, or the frustration that had on so many nights fraught her.

"Pardon?" Mr. Green asked.

"It was a last attempt in waking him up. Begging, threatening, pity… tears even.. I used them all. He refused to budge. I did not intend to kill him. But those eyes…. When that dagger stuck him, he stared at me with those mocking eyes…. Those eyes that said I could not do it, and that I will regret treating him so. I know I will, so I scrambled for the noose and killed him. if I die, so be it. At least I don't have to put up with it anymore."

"If you were to work in my line of profession long enough, you will find that about eighty percent of the murderers kill without any intension of killing." When she did nothing more than look so far away in a place so distant from the prison interrogation room, Mr Green said, "give me your wish, Mrs. White. I will do my best."

The silent Mrs. White turned her eyes onto the man dressed in green. Finally, she shook her head.

"Not even for little Roy?" Mr. Green asked.

She shook her head again, "I did my best by him. If I could, I would take him away with me … away from this world. But I could not. So be it. I had done my best by him. From now on, his life and his death shall be his own worry and concern."

As Mr. Green stepped out of the metal gates that held Mrs. White in, he noted that the look on the lady's face was one of resignation. The mother had given up, and nothing more could be done. Those years of worries and anger had disappeared. What that came in place of it were the preparation for the end of those six years or more of a life she had never thought she would lead when she first stepped into the household of Mister Black.

"The man was gone, and the lady follows soon," said he to his baffled colleague, "and what was left was the sole child of both. Perhaps it is about time I get a son."

"WHAT!" The colleague cried out, his hand clasping over his mouth after the sound had escaped.


End file.
